Reign
by Mrs.Dauntless
Summary: A land set in medeval times revolving around peasant Ichigo Kurosaki, a boy who doesn't remember his past. Captured, he faces trial for strangely looking exactly like the heir to the throne. This mystery, is sure to nurture and hide the truth, and protect the web of evil plans. Rated T to keep things safe. Ichihime later.
1. Prologue

Prologue to Reign:

The air was cold, more than usual this January evening. The darkness outside the tall windows was still, quiet enough to almost heart the steady breath of life that exhaled across the globe. The child asleep was shivering in their bed, cocooned in the heavy quilt of black thread and fine silver embroidery of the lunar cycle that enveloped their fragile body. He was only 6, and thus regulating temperature was difficult at this age. Not that it would matter soon, for the danger that was slowly grasping at his heartstrings was nearer than he would ever imagine.

Sickly pale white fingers stretched as thin as a whip, trembling in glee, angry black, jagged nails clawing forth towards the eposed neck that was at their fingertips. With a effortless pinch and the life would be stolen from their tiny lungs, but with a careless grip the evidence of murder would be all too great. That fragile child, too important was his role to make such reckless mistakes. The figure calmed their blood lust, taking a silent breath in, the crisp air cooling the fiery nerves of excitement.

With a patient and wicked grin they stared cruelly at the boy, who delved deeper and deeper into sleep as the warmth at last came 'round with the retirement of the figure. "Soon, the Sousuke blood line will thrive on this boys corpse." The figure purred, cold brown eyes stabbing through the boy for the millionth time as he now stared at the child's back as they glided into the shadows, the tiny body enveloped in silk pyjamas which revealed the royal black crescent moon symbol of the young prince.

In little time, a fateful event will occur, causing this young child to fall into an abyss of an Alien life. However, in the dreams of young Ichigo Kurosaki, the heir to the Kurosaki throne, all that pranced through his youthful head was the dream of one day becoming a king to rule over all. How crushed he'd be if only he knew.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

 _The boy fell to his knees in exhaustion, panting heavily as the soreness from sword training finally got through to him. His brown eyes were steely and irritated, ultimately cold as he regarded the dark man before him._

 _"_ _You must learn to get up, young prince. You never know when you stand before the face of death."_

 _The youth sighed and scowled, pushing himself reluctantly to his feet as he continued to pant, his muscles on the very verge of giving out, twitching and quivering from the strain. His teacher smirked smugly, readying the wooden practice sword in a natural and confident stance, his ash grey eyes regarding the youth before him with hidden pride as his long chestnut brown hair swished gently as he readied himself._

 _The boy has grown incredibly over the years he's taught him, his endurance out matching many of the pupils that have been under his tutorship. He was strong, the swords master knew, and he would make a fine warrior in the future. But right now, all that the old man saw, is a 15 year old boy who has a temper and stubbornness like his father._

 _"_ _Now, try the movement again. And above all else," The swords master paused, taking a practiced step towards the young prince, arching his sword over to his left, a movement that had no power behind it but it was created to distract and give a red herring in purpose. For an older man, he moved quickly as he side stepped and brought the wooden blade across to his right, cutting through the boy's defenses and poking at the fragile throat gently. The boy could kill him with the glare that was burning in his youthful eyes._

 _"_ _Remember to always pay attention to every movement your opponent makes."_

* * *

His eyes snapped open, as his body lurched forward in distress. The boy brought his calloused hand to his forehead, a shaky breath escaping him as he tried to relax. His recent dream was of someone he somehow knew, not very close, but there was a relationship there like teacher and student. He wished that his memory would serve better to him, but even remembering breakfast was hard.

Ichigo Kurosaki was a boy who worked ever since he came to live with the foster family that took him in. Living as a common folk was hard, but he earned his stay with the exceptional work as an assistant within the shop that sold odds and ends. Working every day except Sundays, Ichigo helped to make many of the products sell, with charisma and good salesman skills that would keep the family afloat, and determination.

The orange-haired boy always stuck out like a sore thumb, his bright hair bringing attention from those he'd rather keep away, such as thugs and young punks too excited to put their mark on the world. Always as someone to not give up so easily, Ichigo fought and won against his pursuers, setting an impressive first impression on those who crossed his path, either good or bad.

Ichigo was 17 years old, and in these medieval times, he was a man. Taking on responsibilities was an expectation, which settled naturally on his strong, broad shoulders. It was as though he was born for taking on the greater tasks in life. So, this early morning, Ichigo had the responsibility to take the carriage into town, and sell the products that his merchant foster father gained from supplies across Japan. Candies, silks, dried goods, "lucky" items, simply name it.

Experienced to the market, Ichigo never had a problem keeping away thieves, or people who wanted to start fights. He kept the money rolling in for his foster family, and he enjoyed the bustle of the busy streets and the independence it gave him. Feeling as though he was important gave him a greater purpose.

_

It was a normal day. The market square opened their windows and produce to the public, preparing their stands for the expected flow of consumers.

Ichigo simply delivered produce to shops, going through the motions of supply and demand. People were warm at this hour of the day, surprisingly, and treated the young lad with a sense of respect as he travelled from shop to shop, selling his wares to both shop owner and townsfolk alike. With a heavy coin purse, Ichigo returned to the carriage, sparing a glance at the jewel of a castle that was perched on the tall hill that loomed over the town in the vale.

It was a massive building; a large main body, adorned by gothic lookout towers around its perimeter. Placed to the far back, were three massive towers for the royal children. From an bird's eye view, the castle looked like a crown with three spikes: the grand garden in front as the fur lining the bottom of the crown. From the towers forward into domesticated forestry, laid rich and beautiful pools and lagoons for the royal family and noble guests to enjoy during balls and special events.

Ichigo was confused every time he looked at that magnificent work of architecture, for it always made him feel a longing to be there, the same feeling someone gets when they're incredibly homesick. Ichigo scolded himself, and replaced those thoughts with ones that were entirely focusing on the money of stock, chiding himself for thinking of something beyond his status.

One the way home, as he lead the stubborn horse down the wide street, Ichigo whistled a tune that has stuck in his mind ever since he was younger, though he couldn't recall the event on how he came to know it. He remembered a warm, melodic voice soothing him, but from who was lost to him. As Ichigo began the leisurely journey home, he took in the environment around him, enjoying how the calm, serene streets were still and silent in the early morning sun. Few people were out, but many were stirring and starting to enter the empty streets before the rush of crowded people became too overwhelming.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in mild interest as he saw a young woman hurriedly rush towards him from down the street, slowing his pace as his eyes never left her oval shaped face, the pale skin catching his eye as her incredibly long strawberry blond hair wiped behind her from each powerful spring forward.

Ichigo began to become concerned as he slowly continued down the street, for she looked quite perturbed as she steadily started to get closer, glancing behind her frequently wide, scared eyes as though she was—oh. Ichigo knew exactly what the situation was. As the young woman approached, Ichigo grabbed her without so much as a second thought and placed the suddenly shocked woman behind him protectively. She gasped in genuine surprise, her hefty chest hauling in rhythmic breaths as she was suddenly stopped, her pretty grey eyes staring at him with pure confusion and fear.

"What are you—" She started, but fell short as the group of men chasing her slowed as they approached, leering at her with lewd stares and grins. Ichigo frowned at them, his gaze colder than ice as he regarded every grimy, perverse man. Every face fell instantaneously, every expression on the middle aged men's face replaced by a dangerous and angered scowl.

In the group of five, the middle most man took a pace forward, his broad shoulders suggesting that he was most likely a laborer. "Get out of our way, boy. That girl is ours." He said with shamelessly lewd and possessive undertone, which caused the young girl to tremble and press close to Ichigo in fear, almost as though she was trying to smother herself out of existence. Agreeing grumbles came from the other four men.

"No." Ichigo said, his voice firm, causing no room for debate from his oddly authoritarian voice. A shorter but stockier man snarled, his teeth a horrible grimy yellow which made Ichigo grimace.

"That girl has no right to deny us. As a bar maiden it's her job!" The grumbles turned to near shouts of agreeance, which began to rouse the neighbouring homes and shops, and create quite the scene. Ichigo half turned to the now violently trembling girl, seeing that she now clenched his shirt tightly, her head right in between his shoulder blades. He turned slowly and took her hands in his, staring at her with silent, unshakeable protectiveness. Her eyes welled with unfallen tears, her chest hiccupping with relieved and happy gasps at what seemed to be an understanding.

This absolute stranger was going to protect her against foes that he has no business with.

Ichigo released her hands and in an instant was attacking the quintet, using his fists and fast feet to dispose of the perverse group of men. They all didn't expect a fight, and they were losing extremely fast due to Ichigo's agility and strength.

The young girl looked at the scene before her in awe and incredulousness. This boy was so graceful in this fight, and seemed to just emanate with skill and disciplined calm. She didn't know it, but her fear eventually washed away, relief replacing it as she knew that she was safe.

The entire battle took about a simple minute and a half, for as sturdy as these men were, they weren't able to keep up with the onslaught of attack and power output from the orange haired boy. Ichigo stared at them with icy disgust as they laid defeated on the cobbled street, groaning in pathetic agony and obvious discomfort.

" _Revolting_ , putrid filth like you treating an innocent woman like her as though you're entitled to her." Ichigo resisted the urge to do more damage than needed, dusted himself off, and strode back quickly to the young woman who was staring at him with wide, enchanting eyes. He was drawn to them for some reason, but snapped out of their spell to make sure that she was alright.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare too long. Are you alright?" Ichigo asked, gently grasping the girls' bare, trembling shoulders, the thin laced straps that held up the ample bust section of her light brown dress slipped down from her frantic running. Her eyes broke from his for a brief moment, her slender and smooth hands fumbling nervously in front of her hour glass waist, which was adorned by a black, laced up corset. Ichigo patiently waited, noting that she stopped trembling and seemed close to his age. She looked back into his warm brown eyes.

"…Yes, thank you sir…for dealing with those men." Her voice was soft, timid at most, and he didn't blame her. He smiled kindly and released her gaze and her shoulders, which was actually warming her with a calming sensation.

"I couldn't just stand here and let them mistreat a woman. A beautiful one at that." Ichigo absently said, not necessarily thinking about the power of his words as she blushed scarlet. "Now, would you like me to walk you home?" Ichigo offered, pointing to the drivers' seat on the merchant carriage.

Now this was a crossroads for Orihime. She was just saved by this young (and supernaturally handsome man) that genuinely wanted to protect her. She should feel grateful, but seeing another man, especially from her past problem, how was she to trust his motives? She shifted her weight from one foot to the next for a long second.

"I don't think that's necessary, I'm sure that I'll be able to make it home on my own." Orihime said with a nervous tremor in her voice, slowly inching out of Ichigo's range. He regarded her with confused and curious eyes, his genuine emotion startling her. Orihime didn't expect the handsome boy to be so interested in her affairs after the fight. His gaze changed into something a little more serious. She held her breath.

"I understand that you are nervous, being around another boy, but it's in my best interest that I see you return home safely. At least let me do that much for you, and I'll give you my word that you'll be safe." Ichigo said in a soft yet firm tone, getting his message across clearly, but in a volume of voice that didn't Orihime further.

The auburn haired girl smiled in defeat, her nervousness disappearing from her grey eyes as she searched his, seeing an iron-willed truth. "Fine. You may escort me home." Ichigo had a grin that melted her. "Wonderful, climb aboard."

Through Orihime's directions, Ichigo drove without difficulty towards their destination. Orihime was a little embarrassed, sitting so close to a boy that was not out to try and touch her, and a handsome one at that. Eventually, Ichigo broke the ice first, and introduced himself as he gazed into her eyes comfortably. Orihime returned the introduction, keeping an eye on the road as Ichigo neared a particular bend that lead them down a rather smooth route. Orihime instructed that he continued this way, turn right at the last bend and stop at the house at the very end of the street. Ichigo nodded in acknowledgement to her words.

As a nervous woman, Orihime tried to lived up and slowly ease her nerves with her ramblings, which intrigued Ichigo as it was starting to reveal her character. He'd add an answer when needed, but otherwise let her do the talking. By the end of the ride, Orihime was talking to him as though she had known him her entire life, telling him about her friends and the many things that was inside the mind of Inoue.

"Thanks again, for your help from earlier." Orihime said shyly, looking at her hands as she bit her bottom lip in habitual fidget. Ichigo smirked in amusement. "You're most welcome, Inoue. Hopefully danger won't pursue you the next time we meet." Ichigo said his goodbyes, and continued on his way home a little brighter than the crisp sun that was now illuminating the town.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading,  
Mrs. Dauntless**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Killing was as easy as blinking. To her, remorse was a word that was not apart of her dictionary. Just now, within the span of 20 seconds she killed two people, simple people who lead simple lives, who stepped onto the path that her master paved out for her with mangled bodies of carnage and gore.

Her technique was flawless, a death that could be connected to the scenario, which made it all the more an advantage to staying concealed to her trade. The assassin placed the bodies together in a scene of carnage; a murderous street brawl which resulted in both persons on the cobbled street, dead. Her hidden conscious felt a yearning though, for a life that was better than this, than simply being a tool for her master's dirty work. Her work was far from over, as she was still very young and full of promise.

In a whisper of breeze she was gone from the cold alley, never once feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun against her pale cheek.

She sprinted in the shadow's shelter, heading towards the castle with a concealing cloak, confident that she wasn't seen from enemy eyes in turrets. She slipped by undetected into a hidden passage way near the third spire, which was reserved for the eldest son, because it was the largest. She traversed the spiralling stairs, with grace and urgency, not wanting to keep her master waiting.

As she reached the door at the top of the spire, the thin yet solid and heavy wooden door barred her entrance. She brought her feminine hand to the familiar surface and knocked 5 times, in practiced rhythm, and awaited her acceptance to entry. The door promptly swung open, silent, slowly, and suspenseful.

Without missing a heartbeat she entered, well aware of the questions her master was to ask. "The job has been completed, Master." She said in a monotonous voice, no light reaching her eyes as she stood in the light, making sure that her master saw every emotion (when there was any) across her face to ensure she was holding true to her words. She didn't need light to know he smiled in pride at her actions.

"Wonderful. You have become a fine tool to my success. Well done." Her master cooed, his voice a warm baritone (which could be interpreted as heavily sarcastic) his incredibly pale hands dancing in the sliver of light that filtered through the heavy glass window. It did not illuminate his robed sitting, and brooding figure, but by her knowledge he was a thin and very gaunt man, one that has never left the castle unless absolutely necessary.

"Your Grace." The assassin dipped into a low bow, her dark drown hair slipping from her hood, becoming a soft caramel in the light, the Sun's rays casting cold shadows on her face, the trained killer aura increasing tenfold. He couldn't see from this distance, but in her dark brown eyes there was a slight quiver, for she knew that if she had failed him her entire existence could have been at stake, including loved ones. He was powerful enough to wipe it all away with a whisper.

"Another mission for you. Scout the lands for more nuisances to my plans. If anything, or, anyone of interest crosses you, report to me immediately. And, dear assassin, if someone looks like this," he paused as he shifted into a standing position, moving his thin form to the light for her to see. She was rooted exactly where she was, expectant with a cold stare.

He waved his hand before his face, his thin body transforming from that sickly thin to a broadened and more handsome form, gracefully entering the light. His hair caught her attention, a detail that would not be so easily missed in a crowd. He smiled evilly. "then bring them back here at once."

She dipped into an even lower bow, her hand almost sweeping against the floor, then promptly exited the room which sheltered her actually fragile yet spiritually powerful master. Moments ticked by, as she took a route that concealed her though the dense forest untamed by the castle, a memorized meandering route of unlevelled dirt road that would lead to the edge of the forest near the entry way into the kingdom. From there she would start her search on known 'nuisances' and possibly find the desired target her master was so keen on finding.

It took a lengthy time reach the halfway point, the heart of the kingdom, where she took it upon herself to rest. She hadn't eaten since the night before, and expelling such energy in that encounter with her targets made her tired and famished. She needed rest.

She detoured from her path and entered the walled perimeter of the kingdom, slipping past through a worn sectioned that had begun to crumble from age. Because she was so tiny, her slender form passed through without so much as an effort.

Within moments she was in the market place, the scent of food and baked treats setting her mouth to water unconsciously. She pulled her hood low as she stalled in a shadowed gap between two business building, and naturally settled into the hustle and bustle of the market place.

Perhaps she'd be able to spot her target, and please her master.

He returned home, to the shop by the edge of the city he called home. He expertly put the horse and merchants cart where they should be, a warmth in eyes ever since he both beat the hell out of gross men and met a pretty girl in the process.

He mulled over recent events, perplexed by the odd thought of greater responsibility. The need to protect, as his name implies. Brown troubled eyes gazed at the distant but still ever-magnificent castle which sat comfortably on its perch, like a dragon, as it knew it was fearsome and in no need of worry. A thought breathed in his mind, a whisper nurturing it as it told him that he shouldn't be here among the common, but learning to take a kingdom into secure hands. Ichigo nearly laughed at himself.

Take the throne? Him? To even glance at the castle was such an incredulous notion! "Stop thinking of luxuries beyond you." Ichigo chided himself with a short belittling chuckle, halting his thoughts to receive lunch.

Ichigo was incredibly hungry. Breakfast wasn't on the table when he left earlier this morning, and as soon as he entered the modest home of his foster parents Ichigo was ready to dive into a table of food. He said a customary salutation to his family, then kissed his foster mother of the cheek, watching his manners as he smelled the conjured foods that were steaming on the sun soaked window sill.

"Good afternoon Ichigo. Was it a good day in the market?" His foster mother, Yoruichi greeted, her dark skin the colour of cocoa beans as her amber eyes were a deep honey in the direct sunlight. She wiped her hands on a cloth and brushed her dark violet bangs from her forehead habitually. Ichigo nodded with a soft smile.

"Yes, it was fine. Got into a fight, but they started it." Ichigo honestly said, nonchalantly resting his chin on his palm. Yoruichi grinned at her foster son, her eyes glinting a proud glimmer of gold.

"That's my boy. Staying strong as always. Who were these thugs?" The woman said with interest, bringing the cooked foods to the table, calling her husband's adopted children Jinta and Ururu to the table. She seated herself at the right side of the oval table, leaving a customary spot for her husband. Ichigo scowled just at the mere mention of those greasy thugs.

"Disgusting men with no respect for women. A girl was running from them because they wanted to use her from the bar. I stepped in and protected her." Ichigo didn't realize just how vehement he was after he finished, surprising himself with the sudden need for air. He gasped lightly as he took a much needed breath to cool the rushing blood in his head.

Yoruichi regarded him with genuine surprise, her expression darkening at the disrespect, but this darkness passed as she smirked wickedly and waggled her eyebrows. That was never a good sign.

"So...there's a girl eh? Thank you for protecting her. I'm sure she's very grateful. Now, tell me more about her." Yoruichi smiled, her amber eyes staring at him with expectant interest, that glimmer of anger passively residing in her golden irises. Ichigo sighed, but softly smiled despite his slight embarrassment, her interest making him bashful.

As the young man was about to open his mouth in reply, Jinta and Ururu ran in, Ururu entering quietly, while the red-haired Jinta was exploding with cocky energy. Ichigo couldn't speak about a girl now, he'd get teased by Jinta within a heartbeat. The children sat in their spots across from one another at the same time, causing Ichigo to lose his chance in reply.

"Ichigo wanna fight?" Jinta obnoxiously bellowed, putting his fists up as he made very close swings near Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo sighed and allowed a soft punch to hit his shoulder, scowling. "Knock it off Jinta, we're at the table." Ichigo chided him with a cool, stern glare, taking the steaming plate of food Yoruichi served him gratefully. As Jinta was about to take another swing, Yoruichi moved incredibly fast, his tiny fist caught in mere milliseconds before it took on enough power to push and hit Ichigo again. The boy stared at his stepmom with wide eyes in shock.

She didn't utter a word, giving him a stone cold stare, enough to instantly out the fire of fight and discipline him. She then released his fist, and continued to serve the children as though it was never an issue in the first place. Ururu said her quiet thanks, and lifted a bite sized portion to her small mouth to chew.

Ichigo smirked at Jinta with an I-told-you-so glare, resuming to eat as he felt Jinta's fiery glower.

After helping Yoruichi clear off the table, the children ran off to assist their father, leaving the older duo to themselves in quiet. Yoruichi nudged Ichigo with her elbow, still expecting the full story on this morning. Ichigo groaned in detest.

"There's nothing else to it, I protected a girl and gave her a ride home because I'm a nice guy." Ichigo was a little defensive, a light blush on his cheeks. Yoruichi knew better. "You like her, don't you?" Ichigo's blush deepened, crossing over the bridge of nose, now a crimson colour.

"I only met her today! I mean...she was beautiful, but I don't think I knew enough to determine that." Ichigo was lying to himself, as he knew that he was entranced just by looking into those clear grey eyes, and hearing her speak so excitedly to him, her character angelic and naturally trancing. Yoruichi didn't tease him further, but knew there was something he was attracted to in this girl.

"So what'd she look like." Yoruichi asked, using water from the well outside to soak and rinse off the food, handing the cold wooden plates to Ichigo to wipe off and pile away. Ichigo cleared his throat, the blush dying down little by little. His brown eyes looked down at the plate, clearly recalling Orihime with a sort of warmth that met his voice as he described her. A slow breath expanded in his lungs, his heart pattering softly as he exhaled, and began to speak.

"She had long strawberry blond hair, which flowed down her lower back to her slender waist; it was soft and very pretty to look at. She had grey eyes, they were bright and clear." Ichigo paused, placing the damp plate down in the near pile with a soft thud, drying the next plate methodically before setting it down. Yoruichi glanced at him with a hidden smirk, continuing on to the pots and pans she used for lunch.

"She was pale, but it wasn't because she was without colour. Orihime was," he searched for a word, his brow furrowing as he gnawed habitually at his lower lip, his hand snatching at open air as though the word was dancing in and out of his grasp. "Like a soft apricot colour, I suppose." Ichigo smiled softly as he was satisfied with the replacement adjective, not the word he'd use, but it was fitting. He stacked the high pile of plates on the respective shelf. Yoruichi grinned as she saw the 17 year old boy she cherished describe a woman rather poetically. How cliché and cute.

"Was she shapely like a peach too?" Yoruichi teased. Ichigo blushed scarlet, nearly dropping the pot onto the stone floor. The dark woman chuckled to herself, enjoying how attracted he seemed to this young woman. "She was." Ichigo mumbled, his blush not dying down if his life depended on it. He wanted to die from how embarrassed he was.

"My goodness Ichigo! Don't be so embarrassed! I've lived through that feeling before. Now, if you start to get...'urges' then you might want to-" Ichigo yelled as he cut her off, covering his face with his cool damp hands. "Yoruichi!"

"I'm just teasing you. God you're still the child I knew from-" she stopped herself, which earned a now cool headed, curious and genuinely confused regard from the young man. Yoruichi cleared her throat, as it was her turn to feel embarrassed. "Go take care of your chores. I can handle it here." Yoruichi shooed him out, all with a warm smile. Ichigo was glad to leave, and hurriedly exited out the side door to the courtyard. "And Ichigo," the called young man stopped himself, rocking back on the balls of his feet to turn to the the dark woman, the sun catching his orange hair in a brilliance that made her truly see how much he has grown. She noticed just how tall and handsome he has become, his heart as strong as she remembered. "I'm proud of you. Truly."

Ichigo gave a small nod and smile, fully leaving her view as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Yes Ichigo's foster family was upon the commoners, but because Ichigo's foster family was merchants, living comfortably was something that was a small luxury in this day and age. The young lad sighed as he felt the warm air on his skin, the small breeze cooling his head considerably from Yoruichi's merciless teasing. He won't say it out loud, but it felt nice to talk about Orihime though, even if it was just her appearance. One thing was nagging him though.

Yoruichi said that she still saw him as the child she knew from before. Of course, those exact words didn't come out of her mouth, but he knew enough to know it was directed at him. Where did he see her before? He's never seen her before in his life until that day two years ago.

His mind was troubled, and asking questions to which he had no answers. And what of the fight? Never before had he moved so fluidly, as if it were as easy as breathing. He knew he was strong. He always was. But something he felt in his heart was different. Something was changing, growing.

Ichigo shook his head as wandered, his dark brown leather-boot bound heels clicking softly against the tiles of the spacious courtyard, wishing he'd have a dog to pay attention to. Even as he walked his fingers tapping against his black trousers, thoughts wondering about his past life came shifting through, badgering him to give them some sort of attention. He sighed, the persistence irritating him as he furrowed his orange brows, and scowled. Ah yes, chores. The perfect distraction.

The young man brought his slender hand and scratched at the back of his head, walking with purpose to the small shed that stood beside the well, opening the door to find the broom. Sweeping the main floor of the house was his priority, the. He'd go get water from the well, feed the horse, clean the stables, rake the yard, fix the hinges on the front door, and then he'd be free. Just by looking at where the sun sat in the bright cloudless sky, Ichigo could see that he had quite a bit of day light to burn. So. He got to work.

The sky blazed orange just like her targets hair when she walked in a rejuvenated gait through the city, falling upon the shop that sold odds and ends. Urahara's Shop, the title named the modest building. Any passer by would think this shop to be a dull tourist trap, but the assassin knew better than to assume things, especially at first sight.

She entered the shop, the bell atop the frame chiming cheerily. A robed man in green greeted her with a smile. "Hello hello! Welcome to Urahara's Shop! What can I help you with?" The blond man in the striped hat began to go on a small rant of discounts and sales and other business traps to lure customers in, oblivious to the irritation in the assassins hooded eyes.

"Enough please, merchant. I am just here, wondering if you have seen a certain young man. He has orange hair, brown eyes. He seems to be around your height." Urahara stopped in mid sentence, serious for a moment. "A boy? Why no one other than you has come in today, thus I won't be of much help." Urahara smiled, waving a white fan back and forth naturally, a cheery laugh escaping him. The assassin sighed and exited, thanking the merchant for his time. "Oh but wait! I have seen someone who fits your description!" The woman tensed, expectantly staring at him with sharp eyes anticipating his every move for something, anything.

Urahara bent low, shuffling, causing the woman to absently lean in to see what he was doing.

"Here we are! He fits your description right?" The woman was shocked for a long second, then glared at the blond with eyes that could kill. In Urahara's hands was a fat, orange tabby cat, staring at her with green eyes, not brown. She hardly concealed the low growl that grumbled in her throat.

"He's on sale for 10 gold coins, including everything you need to take care of this tubby but loving tabby cat!" The woman ushered not a sound, leaving the property in a cool anger, her sharp heels loudly clicking against the cobbled stone. When he knew the woman was gone, Urahara became grave and worried.

"Someone is interested in Ichigo." Urahara spoke softly, petting the indeed tubby cat lovingly, earning a low 'mreow' in response. The man set the cat on the floor with a gently drop, seeing him pad off around the corner from the side door.

Urahara returned when the sun was about 6 hours above the horizon, the sky darkening, the pending darkness threatening the light that brought activity to humans and animals alike. He entered his home, tired and worried, with the tabby at his feet. "I'm home-" Urahara said, as he was hugged strongly from his front, a feminine figure close to his chest. He smiled as hugged her back, the scent of cinnamon and flowers warmly filtering through his nose.

"Welcome home, my love." Yoruichi warmly said, rising to give her husband a much missed kiss on his thin, masculine lips. Urahara caressed Yoruichi's bare slender shoulders, the skin warm and familiar. As much as he wanted to delve into more than her wonderful kisses, he had to discuss something that required her attention.

"It's good to be home, flower, but we must discuss something important." Urahara pressed gently, his toes tingling as the dark woman kissed his Adam's apple, her golden eyes pulling at his heartstrings with heated stares of desire. As he finished his sentence, Yoruichi's character changed to a mildly interested and serious one in a blink. "Important? What's it about?" She asked softly, minding the children. Urahara inwardly sighed, steeling himself for what events were about to potentially unfold.

"It's about Ichigo."

He worked hard, building up enough of a sweat to effectively coat his body in a fine sheen of sweat. The orangette breathed in rhythmic, quick hauls, finished with his chores at long last. Ichigo walked to the well, had a swallow of refreshing water and wiped himself down with a spare clean rag he collected from inside. After washing up, he went inside. He was sore, and ready for a long nap into the night. As he was about to head upstairs into the room he could call his own, Yoruichi stopped him with a warm, familiar hand on his forearm. The orangette stood on the throws stair, and kept his reluctance and tiredness well hidden. "Yes?"

"Ichigo, we must talk." There was a tone of clear importance, one that was firm enough to not argue against. This worried Ichigo, and set his visage to a serious one. He nodded, and sat down at the table.

Urahara removed his hat, his ruffled sandy blond tresses long enough to tangle against his eye lashes. He brushed them away with a calloused and masculine hand, then cleared his throat in a seemingly calm manner. Ichigo switched his gaze of concern and seriousness from the dark woman Yoruichi to Urahara, his heart hammering in his chest at the anticipation of the news to come across to him. Urahara's mellow brown eyes finally met Ichigo's.

"Ichigo, you are in danger, and the both of us have tried our best to conceal you against your pursuers ever since we found you, one that day." Urahara's levelled voice was worrying Ichigo even more, but she clenched his teeth behind closed lips, his eyes and brows still as stone as he listened to every word.

"We," The blond indicated to both Yoruichi and himself. "know about your true past, and it is time that you prepare yourself for an inevitable encounter with your enemies."

Ichigo cracked just a bit, a bit of shock rippling across his features, his breath held in his lungs sharply, as if he was scared to breathe. "What do you mean?" His voice was soft, to keep the conversation between the three of them, and to try and calm himself. Yoruichi put a firm hand on his.

"Ichigo, your true identity, is the son of King Isshin, heir to the Karakura Throne."

Ichigo was silent, unblinking for a long second, the shock gone from his face. He slowly leaned back into his seat, staring at something distantly, his hand still in Yoruichi's grasp, unmoving. It started with a soft chuckle, but soon his chest was bubbling with laughter. Urahara and Yoruichi glanced at each other nervously.

"What?" Ichigo said, smiling as he was absolutely perplexed, enough to laugh as the weight of those words had yet to sink in. **Little** did he know, it wasn't a joke.


	4. Chapter 3

Ugh, I am a trash bag for forgetting this story. Sorry fellow readers. Well, here is a long awaited chapter!

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He went to bed in a turmoil of emotions, deciding that speaking out loud would just confuse him even more and cause him to overreact to the situation. Yoruichi and Urahara simply watched the orange haired boy as he stood without a sound and head upstairs to bed, his door shutting quietly as he obviously settled himself down for the night. An atmosphere of worry settled over the both of them.

They knew that it was going to ultimately shock him. The fact that he stayed in the house and didn't run or voice any anger was a surprise, and even more, he just went to sleep. Perhaps this was for the better that he slept on this new information, and reflect on his own before approaching them the next day. Urahara convinced his wife to similarly retired to their room, deciding that rest was more important than stressing over their foster son doing anything rebellious. The violet haired woman showed clear acquiescence to going to bed, but relented and followed her knowledgeable husband.

The next morning three out of five members in the household were tired. Ichigo looked miserable and on edge ever since the great reveal, and his foster parents were similarly empathetic to his emotions with the restlessness that left bags underneath their eyes. Ichigo was stimming, his leg shaking as his fingers were tapping nervously while his gaze was transfixed on some intangible object. Yoruichi was the first to stop him from his fidgeting. Ichigo gasped in shock, gripping the table as he gazes at the dark skinned woman. Her amber eyes still yielded a maternal warmth.

"Ichigo, I know that you are on edge, but you need to let us explain everything. At least, let me begin to explain some of the story." She softly smiled as the boy relaxed visibly and sighed, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes as he settled in his seat. The children were out doing chores anyways, and won't be back until later that morning. Urahara was at work, so the two of them could speak in silence, and tranquility. Yoruichi took a calming breath, nipping her bottom lip before mustering the nerve to speak.

"Ichigo, it is true that you are the heir to the Kurosaki throne. You have taken the name Urahara for two years to hide your identity. It has some magical value, to keep your appearance and resemblance to the prince to a minimum. That's why you have been able to walk out in the streets and not be recognized by anyone. The last name has kept you safe." Yoruichi explains, brushing her bangs out of her eyes while she gazes intently at the boy, wanting to make sure that he was handling this. To his credit, he was. But his emotions were written on his face and there was a sense of hurt and turmoil on his young features. He passed through many more emotion, but the look of being lost pained her. Such an expression wounded the dark skinned woman, but she pressed on, regardless of her maternal hurt.

"Two years ago, there was an assassination on the prince. Do you remember the story?" The woman asked. Ichigo's eyebrows knitted together, his honey brown eyes closing in mild frustration to remember. The story was slowly coming back to him, along with very few memories of the day that Yoruichi and Urahara found him. He sighed hotly, and gnawed at his lower lip, his defined jaw flexing.

"There was someone who broke into the castle, and reached the prince's room, stabbing him in his sleep. The assassin was caught, and the prince is now bedridden for life in his chamber." Ichigo states as he opens his eyes, to which amber eyes close softly as the action was followed by a nod.

"That is not the real story, my boy. _You_ were indeed targeted, and the assassin in question attempted to end your life in your chamber. By a miracle, you were saved, but badly wounded, and ended up being thrown from the castle into the Karakura river. On that fateful night, my husband and I found you on the bank, frozen and half dead." Yoruichi sounded quite shaken to remember that night, and visibly shuddered. She steeled herself with a small sigh.

"We took you in, because we knew that you can never go back to the castle, given that the assassin took your identity, and is now ruling as the prince of Karakura. He is planning something wicked, to over throw the King and lay ruin to the land. We could have fought against the assassin, but to risk saving you and the kingdom would have been a great sacrifice. He is strong, and you were too important to simply pass over." Yoruichi softly says, almost expecting some sort of cry of shame from the boy, and even some outraged fit. But….none came.

Ichigo surprised his foster mother by gripping her feminine hand within his own, gazing at her with grateful and warm eyes. He was silent, but his expression spoke words that his voice did not. A feeling of guilt still lumped in her throat, but she swallowed tears and smiled thankfully at the boy.

"To give insight to Urahara and I, we knew you from when we both worked in the castle for your father, King Isshin. He was a blacksmith before becoming a merchant, and I was a weapons master for the stealth squad in the castle grounds before I became a mother of three." She suckles lightly at that. The orange-haired boy similarly smiles with mirth.

"We both worked along side your father, and we respect him greatly. He treasured you so dearly." Yoruichi fondly smiles, a pained look in her eyes as she recalls just how distressed Isshin was when he found out his son was almost murdered. Now he never leaves the castle, in fear of his only heir being assassinated again. At the mention of his biological father, Ichigo smiled absently as a part of him seemed to recall the deep laughter and playfulness of the man from his early years. Unfortunately, most of the memory was lost, to which a great sense of distance settled over his heart.

Ichigo absorbed all of this in quiet shock, simply allowing his foster mother to speak and answer the mental questions his mind has plagued him with for two years. What bliss to actually get an explanation. The boy sighs, his expression darkening as he fell in on himself for a moment.

"I am the true heir. So the feeling of not belonging here...was actually me longing to return to the castle?" Ichigo practically murmurs, but thanks to the silence on the household in the early hours of day Yoruichi heard him clearly. In the sunlight her eyes warmed as she at last smiled.

"Yes, you are my boy. The castle is where you truly belong, and it is not a feeling to be ashamed of. You may not remember, but that is your true home." Yoruichi says, then smirks knowingly as she continued to speak. "I bet that when you were fighting those men you felt strong and disciplined, yes?" The amber eyed woman asks. Ichigo is set back on his heels after hearing this. How did she know? The boy slowly nods, a prideful grin on his lips as he countenance brightens significantly. Yoruichi notes the fighting spirit in his eyes, smirking as she recalled all those days of cursing her through training and the fire that he showed when duelling the swordsman in the castle. She was anxious for them to meet again.

"You have been trained quite well by the swordsman that used to work in the castle, but after your disappearance, he retired and became reclusive. It is time to rekindle your training, then reclaim the throne for yourself." She enjoyed the look of complete shock on the boy's face, the pride melting away to complete in-credulousness.

"That is suicide! I can't just march in there and challenge the royals! I'd be killed!" Ichigo yelled, to which Yoruichi just laughed heartily and arched a fine purple brow. Ichigo felt his neck flush at his outburst.

"You haven't the slightest clue of the power that resides in you, my boy. On the morrow, you will start your training. You must be well prepared to handle the swordsman, and even further prepared to handle the weight of this task. If you do not follow through, Ichigo Kurosaki," Yoruichi purposely called the boy by his actual name, seeing the flinch of unfamiliarity from the sound. "That very name, will be the bane of this entire nation. The world as you know it, will fall to destruction and chaos at the hand of the impostor that wears your name." Yoruichi says firmly, rising to grab something from underneath the stone floor, a tile coming loose with a practiced motion.

Ichigo watches intently while still mulling over the fact that his foster mother called him by his actual name, a name that felt familiar but equally foreign to him. He swallowed hard as Yoruichi pulled out a slender and perfectly balanced ebony blade, the hilt adorned with a deep blood red leather and chains bound at the end of an steel cap. Despite being handled, the chains were silent, and the blade was dull in appearance. Just by seeing the very sword Ichigo felt his heart pound in yearning as though he has seen a best friend after a millennia apart. The orange haired boy stopped breathing, his brown eyes fixated on the blade. His fingers itched to hold it. Yoruichi smirked.

"This very blade, is the one true key to saving this nation, Ichigo. You wielded this very sword a long time ago, and you are out of practice. Trust in me, when I say that this swordsman will help you regain your identity." Yoruichi finished, handing the dull blade to Ichigo's anxiously quaking hands. He was almost afraid to touch the metal of the completely ebony blade. But his excitement gave him courage, and he grasped the handle and gingerly caressed the sharp end of the blade.

In an instant the sword brightened and shone brilliantly, the chain-links audibly chiming together as though it excitedly greeted the return of its master. Ichigo smiled and laughed in shock, his eyes brightening significantly as he felt a mental bond with his weapon. It was like a sense of strength was rooted in his soul, and he felt significantly more stable than before. Ichigo set the blade down on the table, the shimmer not diminishing in the slightest, and hugged Yoruichi. The dark skinned woman made a muffled noise of surprise, but hugged her foster son and ushered him out for his chores after lecturing him for a few hours.

Ichigo was excited now that he had a weapon in his possession, a great honor, considering peasants were not ever given a blade of such worthy status. Ah, right. "I am a prince." Ichigo murmured, looking at his blade for confirmation of his thoughts. The black blade seemed to hum in accord, a feature that surprised Ichigo. Was this blade sentient? Ichigo chuckled in bewilderment and ran his callous hand through his hair, arching a brow as he gazed at the blade in amusement.

"Can you talk?" Ichigo quietly asked, expecting an answer. He listened for quite a while, but did not receive a verbal answer. Ichigo simply assumed that mirrored excitement and basic emotion was the most he was to receive from such a beautiful blade, which was plenty enough. The boy set the blade down in the shed and took up a broom, getting to work on his chores.

Little did he know, about the snow white figure that had been watching over him for the past two years, was actually smiling and barking laughter like no tomorrow, golden eyes over an abyssal darkness glimmering in rekindled hope. The figure couldn't wait for his aibou to see him after all this time. 


	5. Chapter 4

Orihime had the same repeating days ever since she was in her adolescence. Working as a bar maiden was a tough job that required courage, and because the innocent girl was always a hard worker, she handled the position well. Customers treated her from a spectrum of politeness to extreme lewdness, but she always painted a smile, presented herself well, and made sure that the job was done.

Of course, that wasn't her real passion.

She loved the fine arts of painting and poetry, the very subject elegant and wealthy in intelligence. As a woman she had no business in education, however, she did yearn for it strong enough to stealthily pluck books from her bosses' office and try to decipher the symbols called words, and attempt at reading them.

The strawberry-blond was actually quite a fast learner, and eventually picked up the written word quite easily through practice each night before bed.

No one cared though, and would never assume a woman of her status to be actually intelligent.

She hated her figure, because it always drew the wrong types of attention from onlookers far and wide. The staring and obvious intentions were displayed in the faces of her customers, devoid of shame.

By all definitions, she was beautiful. Fair skinned, heart shaped face, long strawberry-blond hair that reached the small of her back, and fresh, bright eyes that could steal the heart of plenty a man. With the addition of such a curvaceous body, and an extremely kind heart, Orihime was a woman that many men desired.

She was not stupid, and understood that men wanted her. With her current position, and the protection of her boss Rangiku, no one dared to touch her.

Except those laborers that slunk up behind her as she was clearing a table, Tatsuki in the front dealing with a drunken customer.

She was caught by surprise, grey eyes wide and embarrassed as she turned and quickly slapped the centre man of five as he grabbed her bust shamelessly, in front of the customers she tended. A roar of laughter roused in the inn, but none saw the fury that crossed the man's face as he chased after the fleeing blond.

And Orihime ran for her life. Her legs hurt, her heaving chest laboring with every breath, her heart hammering a song of fear so loud that her ears rang from the blood flushing them. Whimpers left her pale rose lips as she continued to sprint, her vision wild and tunneled as her only objective was to escape danger.

But as she fled, she also found salvation, in the form of a handsome boy who protected her that day.

Orihime sighs fondly as she recalls the warmth of his honey-brown eyes and the attractive smirk that adorned his masculine lips, his sharp features just melting her mind as he treated her so well and gentleman-like. Ichigo, his name was, and he was the knight in shining armor that saved her from the truest hell that existed on Earth. Her mouth curled into a sweet smile as she replayed the memory, seeing the boy in the light that he radiated with enamored grey eyes.

A voice called her back to reality.

"Orihime, these tables aren't going to wait themselves. Come back to Earth please?" Sharply, the busty ginger woman chirps, throwing several drunken customers from her inn. The grey eyed girl blinks quickly and sulks, wishing her life was more than just a bar-maiden.

"Yes, right away, Rangiku-san." Orihime answers, the brave girl driven back to the battlefield with a sword in her smile as she continued to wait tables.

Night fell and the inn that bustled during the daylight hours exhausted itself into a tired state. Rangiku remained in the inn as more stragglers continued to come in, but at this time the night crew came in and relieved the daylight workers. The night crew were also a lot hardier, since the night was usually filled with more drunken brawls. With this shift change, Orihime was freed from her duty.

"Have yourself a good night," Rangiku bid the blond, warming her with a smile as Orihime waved goodbye and stepped with a new determination for her bed.

It was dangerous during this hour of the day, shadows owning knives and daggers that found their way into the backs of wandering souls that were unfortunate to enter tight alleyways and abandoned streets. Orihime knew that as long as she hurried, she would make it home safely. Her dark leather cloak was drawn low on her face, the large article of clothing concealing her curves so that prying eyes could not see her youthful body.

Orihime stepped lively, her heels clicking against the stone roads with determination to make it to the safety of her abode. The sounds echoed quietly on the dark medieval houses, there residents in deep slumber at the hour of night. Her grey eyes scanned the wide side streets for threats as she decided whether to take the shadowed way home or remain exposed in the light, each option as threatening as the first.

She continued walking as she made up her mind, until her gait was stopped by a sturdy masculine chest. She gasped quietly in alarm and took several paces back, the hairs on her neck raised in adrenaline as her body was ready to bolt. That was, until familiar brown eyes gazed curiously into her own.

"Orihime? What are you doing out this late at night? Someone could have hurt you." The boy said, his voice sweet with concern. The strawberry blond melted in her place, his natural charm with his words drawing her in with a relieved sigh. She was not expecting to see the same handsome boy twice in her lifetime, and have him orchestrate such poetry with his voice.

"Oh! I-Ichigo, you had me frightened for a moment." Orihime hated it when she stuttered, but with Ichigo around, her heart made her words jumble as it beat strongly in her throat. Ichigo's chuckle only made her heartbeat worse as she removed her hood.

"Frightened? You wound me Orihime. I would never dream of scaring you." Ichigo practically chuckled, his baritone voice sending the sweetest shivers up her spine as he eyed her with amusement as she nipped her lower lip habitually. She drew a small breath and gazed at him curiously.

"I could ask you the same thing for why you are out here so late as well. I am walking home after my day of work. What about you?" Her soft voice seemed to melt the smugness from Ichigo as he grinned in a warm manner. "I am heading home after delivering a package at last notice to a client." Ichigo states, his hands resting on his hips naturally.

"But you walk alone? Would you like me as company this night?" The boy asks, his eyes asking her with such genuine concern that Orihime blushed and fumbled with her hands underneath her cloak, his lack of conscious for his flirtatious words just adding to the attraction she was beginning to feel. She looked down at her boots, afraid that he would see the scarlet on her cheeks and question its origins.

"I can handle myself, but thank you for offering. I must be on my way-" The blonde tried to evade in a polite manner, with intentions of showing some intelligence before blurting something really embarrassing to the handsome boy, but was trapped in warm hands as a steeled gaze found her grey eyes. Orihime almost forgot to breath as she realized that she was close to the boy again, his masculine scent teasing at her nose.

"Why is it that you must dodge your way from safety? These streets are merciless, and I won't allow a lady like you to walk alone." Ichigo firmly said in a voice that was without room for opposition, and Orihime simply sighed in complete adoration. Where has this hero been all her life?

Ichigo rewarded her with a smile as he ushered her forward with a gentle push on the small of her back, the girl grinning with the butterflies of her attraction. Ichigo must've taken that nervous smile as acceptance for his offer, because he remained quiet as they walked on, warmth emanating from him in a comforting way.

Her sore feet prickled in protest from the constant standing, and she must've made a noise of pain for the boy stopped and critically regarded her. "Are you hurt?" His firm voice softly asked.

Orihime realized what happened and shook her head quickly, her long locks swishing gently from the movement. "Oh, no, no! It's just that, my job has me on my feet all the time and they're a little sore. No need to worry, sir." Ichigo frowned and let her continue walking, not convinced of her claims in the slightest. The blonde mentally slapped herself, for causing him to worry without reason. Which brings up a good question…

"Why do you care?" Orihime slowly asks, not meaning to fluster the boy, but to simply find an answer to his motives in being so gentleman-like. Not that she expected a monster, but that it was hard to find an honest in nature man, _**ever**_. He has seen her curves without the cloak, and yet he remains polite and well-mannered. This perplexed her. Ichigo continued walking along side her, but at a slower pace as he mulled over the question. Grey eyes gazed at the ground and she continued to ramble.

"This is our second time meeting each other, and yet you show such kindness to me. Please do not misunderstand my analysis of your character, but...other men would be trying to...do lewd things to me..." Orihime felt her cheeks flush so hot that she thought that they were bleeding from the weight of her words.

As the boy stopped, Orihime thought that things simply turned for the worse. She cursed herself for saying such things, without indeed preparing the boy for the bluntness of her observations. She gnawed at her lower lip, looking at the ground with enough embarrassment to have a heart attack. The orange-haired boy drew a sharp breath through his lips, his toned body turned to the blonde as he adjusted his vest in an anxious manner. This made Orihime mentally note that it seemed very out of character to the otherwise charismatic and generally confident teen.

"I…..I just want to protect you. When you were running from those disgusting men, I saw the fear in your eyes, and I just…." Ichigo softly began to explain, his cheeks dusting with crimson as Orihime grew more interested in his response, and mustered enough courage to actually observe his face as he spoke.

"I felt so drawn to ensure your safety at any time that we meet, and I made myself promise that you were never that afraid again." The handsome boy gnawed at his lower lip, an action that Orihime found herself smiling at. They both had the same passive habit to bit at their lower lip when they were thinking or nervous. Her grey eyes warmed at his honest response, and no other words were needed as she looped her arm in his and walked him to the door of her house.

Ichigo was actually quite surprised at such a wordless action, but he noted the smile that curled so happily on her lips and did not question the reasoning behind it. He would never tell Yoruichi, but he really enjoyed being the cause of such an expression.

She turned to him and patted his chest as they reached their destination, her smile never fading. Ichigo watched her delicate hand touch the center of his chest with tender eyes.

"Thank you, Ichigo, for being so kind. I hope that we meet again soon, and without danger lurking about." This rewards Orihime with a laugh that had her heart pattering with the happiness of being responsible for that beautiful sound.

"If danger has me coming back to see you…" Ichigo huskily murmured, caressing the cheek of the fair-skinned girl tenderly. Orihime quietly gasps and gazes at him with clear grey eyes, a smirk curling his mouth. "Then I'll be by your side in an instant."

Orihime wondered if that smooth talking mouth was going to press against hers, but Ichigo drew away, taking her hand in his, leaning down to place a tender and warm kiss on the back of her hand. Orihime blushed 12 shades of crimson, a visible shiver going up her spine. Ichigo clearly knew about what he was doing, and grinned with evil attractiveness.

"Good night Orihime." Ichigo softly says, bidding the strawberry-blond farewell. She replies with a soft 'Goodnight," and after he walks out of her sight she runs inside her house to douse her face with cool water with hopes of clearing her mind of the alluring nature of the handsome boy.

"Be careful Inoue, sweetness has gotten you in trouble before." The grey-eyed girl chides herself after drying her significantly cooler, knowing full well of the actions that was her downfall in the past. But….Orihime smiles fondly, her cheeks rewarming. Part of her really wanted to give in to that sugar sweet side that the merchant boy was selling her.

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Ichigo and Orihime are so damn cute to write about. A little fluff isn't a bad thing either. I tried to not let things progress to kissing territory yet, but I wanted their attraction to be pretty clear. Let me know if I should tone things down, if this seems too strong right now.

Interesting stuff is gonna happen in the next few chapters :3

Stay tuned!

 **Mrs. Dauntless**


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